


Blue

by circlenowsquared (csquared225)



Series: Codas to Agents of SHIELD [14]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Body Horror, Cuddling & Snuggling, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Father-Daughter Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Pheels, Vomiting, mention of Skye
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-08
Updated: 2014-04-08
Packaged: 2018-01-18 16:54:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1435807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/csquared225/pseuds/circlenowsquared
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phil tells Clint what he's learned about his own origins.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blue

**Author's Note:**

> None of the body modification is in the story itself, it's when Phil was in T.A.H.I.T.I. For emetophobics, the middle to almost last part has Phil being sick, so tread lightly, it begins a little after GH 135 is mentioned.  
> Also a non graphic but fairly detailed description of what exactly he found in that room, what the alien looked like. And mentions of what happened to Phil and his brain in T.A.H.I.T.I.
> 
> And yes, you’ll notice I’m just having Clint tag along with Phil wherever he goes. That’s how Hawkeye rolls.  
> One last note! Still no beta. Got an offer on tumblr and forgot to reply I FORGOT YOUR URL, KIND PERSON. ;;

Clint was waiting back in his office when Phil came back from his talk with Skye. He knew that they were both pretty much open books with each other, but he had a special bond with the kid. He didn’t want to come in between that. He let his former boss settle in, sit down and get a drink of--whiskey? His brow furrowed, but he didn’t say anything about it. Things were stressful right now, and as long as it was just to take the edge off, he wasn’t going to bother him about it.

 

“Skye is stable.” Coulson finally said. Clint smiled.

 

“Glad she’s okay, Phil. She seems like a good kid, from what everyone’s been telling me.”

 

Phil was silent, and Clint gave him a concerned look. He still hadn’t regained most of his color, despite his charge being stable and not, you know. Dead. Like they’d been worrying that she would be. “Phil? What’s wrong?”

 

“I saw something...down in the mountain,” Coulson said slowly, as if the words were being dragged out him forcefully. Clint hated that noise; he didn’t want his lover to ever feel like he had to tell him something. It was what he’d done when he was still his handler, letting Clint tell him something on his own terms in his own time. “It was…” He shook his head. “I already told Skye. I don’t want to put you in danger, too.”

 

“Hey, you know I’ll back whatever play you make, right? Always. I trust you and your decisions.”

 

Phil didn’t know what to say. He didn’t even trust himself right now, and to have that trust from Clint was a bit overwhelming at the moment, to say the least. He let out a soft noise, and Clint was immediately at his side, hopping up onto his desk next to him. He rubbed his back, letting him work through it in his own way. If it took a few minutes, then so be it.

 

“I found out what Tahiti is,” his partner finally said. “It’s not a place. Well, it is, it was--I found my operating room. Where they split open my skull…” He clapped a hand over his mouth, and Clint instantly kicked over the wastebasket by the side of his desk over within reach. He got a grateful look, then a pause as he waited to see if his stomach was settled. He took a breath and nodded. “There was a steel door, labeled T.A.H.I.T.I.” He laughed softly, bitterly. “Fury and his acronyms. Fitz found the drug, the GH 135 that was used to heal me. But I wouldn’t leave, I needed to see…”

 

He took another breath, feeling mildly ill again, but he couldn’t stop. He had to tell him what he’d seen. “I found the door, and behind it, there’s...this thing--”

 

This time the gagging wasn’t unfruitful, and Clint rubbed Phil’s back as he heaved into the trash, stomach convulsing. He pulled out a wet wipe from his desk (he’d wandered into Phil’s old office dirty and bloody enough that he knew the man would still keep them in his new one) and helped him clean himself up a little, frowned as he took a swig of whiskey to wash away the taste.

 

“I come from something--” Phil made a gagging noise again, and Clint nudged the waste basket towards him again. False alarm this time. He nodded encouragingly but silently. Phil took a breath and tried to describe it. “Just a torso, neck and head of this glowing blue alien...being. Whatever serum was used to revive me was just part of its body, I could see its ribs--” More gagging, but it was closer than the last time. “I was awful, Clint. I--I’m some sort of monster.”

 

“Hey,” Clint gave him a stern look this time. “I’ve faced monsters. Ones with my own eyes and gods with blue ones. Whatever happened to you? You’re no monster, you’re Phil Coulson and you just have some enhancements now. As long as that shit doesn’t mess you up long term? I’m pleased as punch it’s in you, okay?”

 

Phil took a heaving breath (emphasis on the heaving) and licked his lips, wiping his mouth. Despite his throat and stomach trying to convince him otherwise, he was pretty sure he was done being sick, and shoved the wastebasket away from him. Clint gave him a concerned look, but knew he wouldn’t risk dirtying the carpet if he wasn’t sure.

 

“Okay,” he said simply, meeting his archer’s green eyes. “Okay. I trust you.” Clint lit up like a Christmas tree, and Phil again marveled at how easy it was to please him. As opposed to the closed off, angry kid he’d been when they first brought him in. He let him haul him over to the now well worn couch and tuck him into a blanket, and give him a bottle of water. Phil made an attempt at pouting and gave his abandoned whiskey glass a sad look, but Clint wasn’t having it, and snuggled up to him under the blanket.

 

“What did I ever do to deserve you?” the agent yawned, tucking his head into his neck. Clint snorted softly, stroking at his thinning hair.

  
“I ask myself that all the time, sir. All the freaking time…”


End file.
